


Terrible Two

by PepperF



Series: Schmoopy Sam/Daniel kidfic [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-20
Updated: 2008-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Rough day?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrible Two

**Author's Note:**

> I offer distractions to abyssinia4077, in the shape of schmoopy kidfic.

Daniel had long ago decided to blame Jack for perverting his sense of humor. And the timing of it – ugh. It seemed to come out at the absolute worst moments. He'd tried to quell it, tried to analyze it to death in Jack and then in himself by talking about defense mechanisms, attention-seeking, whatever came to mind - Jack never really listened when anyone tried to analyze him, and arguing with oneself was about as productive.

Whatever the reason, laughing at Sam at this particular moment, although tempting, was clearly not a good idea.

"Hi," he said, and forced himself to stop there. Was that... flour? What was the other stuff? Given the colors, he was guessing paint. Probably paint. Or something more arcane... Instinctively, he looked around for the rest of the mess. It was nowhere to be seen. Strange.

And now Sam was looking more irate. What?! He hadn't said a word! "Daniel," she said, through gritted teeth. She held out the kid to him. " _Darling_. This is yours, I believe."

Daniel gingerly took the two-year-old. Apparently Sam had caught the worst of whatever horrific accident had caused this mess. Claire was almost spotless. "What happened?"

Patently, that wasn't the question to ask. "I'm going to take a shower," said Sam. She swept magnificently out of the room. Daniel looked down.

"Did you blow up your paint set?" Blue eyes blinked innocently back at him. A grin - she'd gotten her mother's impish grin – told him that answers wouldn't be forthcoming. And that she'd got another tooth coming through. "Okay," he sighed. He tucked the kid under his arm, and she sagged comfortably in his grip like a small sack of potatoes. She was definitely getting heavier. Well, that, and he was getting older. "How about we sit quietly in front of the TV for a while, until your mom cools down enough to not want to castrate me."

He'd sworn, he really had, that his child wouldn't have a TV for a babysitter. But that had been B.C. (Before Claire) - before attention-grabbing behavior that would put even Jack to shame, before Teal'c insisted that not knowing who Elmo was would be a severe social impairment in kindergarten, before noise and constant interruptions, even when daddy had some important work to do, and he really, _really_ couldn't play with dollies right now... and eventually he'd given in to the idea that okay, maybe a little TV wasn't too bad.

"'Uppy!" cried Claire, arms and legs kicking outwards. Correctly interpreting this as a request for the Teletubbies – he was nearly fluent in her personal language - he put her favorite DVD in the machine, and handed her the remote, which she already knew how to use. He wasn't entirely sure if that was due to Sam's genes, or simply because she'd grown up in the digital age, but either way, he found it a little unnerving. But he left her to it, comfortably ensconced in the depths of the armchair, chubby little legs outstretched and yet still not reaching the edge of the seat. He set their (extortionately expensive but worth every penny) coffee machine going, and then collapsed onto the couch, closing his eyes. Aside from the inane burbling of Dipsy, Tinky-Winky _et al_ , it was bliss.

Claire watched TV for a while, but then apparently decided he was more interesting. After staring at him in silence for several minutes, she came to some internal decision. Wordlessly, she shuffled herself around until her behind was in the air, and carefully, painstakingly, clambered backwards off the chair, one leg at a time, sliding to the floor and dragging her hands (doubtlessly sticky) along the seat to keep her balance. She toddled over to him, pushed at his leg until he moved it aside, and clambered up onto the couch, using his clothes to pull herself up until she was standing next to him. There she staggered a little, and then dropped into his lap, her eyes fixed to the TV once more.

He pulled her back until she was resting comfortably in the crook of his arm, and kissed the top of her head. He didn't mind being used as a climbing frame – really enjoyed, in fact, his two-and-a-half-year-old daughter's methods of perambulation. It was innovative, and mostly silent - a bit like watching a silent movie. It wasn't, usually, the most efficient way of getting around, but at least she was willing to try new things. Mere walking, apparently, had become passé after all of a few months.

Through some stroke of luck, she didn't tend to cry when she fell over; she just looked perturbed and calculating. It was exactly the same look that Sam got when she was working on a particularly recalcitrant piece of alien technology, and it would be quite frighteningly effective as a way to manipulate him, had either of them been aware of its effect on his heart.

Claire waved her hand imperiously, and he snagged the blanket from the other side of the couch, handing it to her. She wrapped her arms around it possessively, let go a huge sigh, and snuggled more comfortably against him. They watched her DVD for a while. She had appalling taste. Someday, some humane individual would write an historical TV series for children that wasn't horribly anachronistic, and Daniel would sing their praises from on high. Until that day, though, he would have to suffer. He leaned his head back, and let his mind tick over quietly.

"You've been busy today, huh?" he asked eventually. She glanced up at him, and her eyes twinkled from behind the blanket she was chewing on. "Yeah." Carrying on a conversation with Claire was currently quite one-sided – she didn't say much, only tending to speak when there was no other way of indicating what she wanted. Daniel loved her look of silent intelligence. She clearly understood a lot more than she said. It reminded him, weirdly, of Teal'c. "Ваша мать посмотрела готовой убить кто-то," he observed. But Claire didn't seem overly worried.

Deciding that making a start on dinner would be a diplomatic move, he shuffled himself out from under Claire, who ignored his departure. Sam came back in as he was peeling potatoes. She looked a lot more relaxed, and had washed... whatever it was, out of her hair. "Rough day?" he asked.

She looked in on Claire, then came to slump on one of the kitchen stools. "We're a hundred per cent sure she's not some kind of evil alien bent on world domination, right?" she asked. Then closed her eyes. "No, I don't mean that." She gave him a tired grin. "Sorry. Yes. And here I was thinking that boot camp was tough."

Daniel put down the peeler and wiped his hands on the dish towel. "She's pushing the boundaries, testing her limits," he said, and wrapped his arms around her.

"She's certainly testing my limits," Sam agreed, wryly, and turned her head into him, closing her eyes. Daniel looked down at the well-memorized lines of her face.

"Ah, you wait. Someday she'll be a teenager, and then this will be but a distant, pleasant dream."

Her cheeks appled, and he knew without being able to see it that she was smiling. "Ugh," she said. "Don't. Anyhow, I had practice dealing with Cassie when she was a teen. We got through that without any homicides."

"I can only think there must have been some kind of divine intervention."

"That would be you," said Sam. "You bought me the 'Little Book of Calm', remember?"

"I was such a smartass."

"You were thoughtful." Daniel stayed staring down at her face. She patted his stomach, without looking up. "Okay, you were being a smartass – but it made me laugh." She looked up, smiling, and ran her hand up his arm and around the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss him briefly. "Thanks," she said, and got up, briskly taking over the job of peeling potatoes. "Anyhow, tomorrow it's your turn. And I told her you're taking her to the zoo."

"Sa-aam!"

From the other room came the cry of one whose excitement has overcome their habitual taciturnity: "ZOO!"


End file.
